Below is a conversation that took place between me and a friend who works in Parliament House after I'd been drinking on my birthday. It started as a hypothetical and turned into a bizarre stream of consciousness political fanfiction that I felt was worth sharing:

i have a hypothetical for you

You are in Parliament House when Ruddy approaches you out of nowhere with two loyal henchmen.

He demands to wank you and says that if you let him he'll give you an exclusive on all political stories from then on.

But if you don't he'll have your clearance revoked and you'll never be allowed in again.

What do you do?

“My pants were already down when you said Ruddy was approaching

I also like the use of "loyal"”

Ruddy wouldn't let disloyal henchmen know he likes to go a wank

“I think it would be weird that he wanted to wank me.

I would probably do it for the story though”

He tells you it's for the good of the nation.

“Even if there were no caveats”

And that it isn't your place to question his wants.

And he says if the story ever becomes public you will disappear.

And reveals there is a third Australian intelligence agency that nobody has heard about

Called Rudd Patrol and they're charged solely with keeping those Ruddy wanks from spilling the beans.

“I will almost certainly be telling friends

His wanks spill the beans”

He takes a long time to wank you because he's bad at it and keeps getting his watch caught in your pubes.

When he's finally done he angrily calls you a faggot and leaves.

And as the door swings shut behind him you hear a half-muffled 'Gotta zip!'

“Does he clean up after?”

No

“What a shit he is”

Albo comes in and does it

And you exchange awkward pleasantries

He constantly avoids your questions about Ruddy's wankings.

And when you push the subject he desperately tells you to just stop before you get yourself in Ruddy Big Trouble.

Holy shit I'm writing a story

“This is genius”

When you go home, your wife tries to make conversation with you but you can't think of anything but Ruddy and his wankings. You want to tell her but you're afraid of what will happen to not just you if you spill the beans.

You go to bed but you toss and turn all night, waking up at 2 am in a cold sweat to Ruddy whispering "Time to rock and roll."

You go for a walk to clear your head.

“Suddenly I can't sleep, then I find myself having anxiety attacks at work.”

You're walking down the road at 3am, trying to clear your head. Your work has been suffering for it.

A car pulls up alongside you, crackling on the gravel. A window rolls down just a crack and light glints off a pair of glasses.

Ruddy tells you It's time.

You've got no other choice but to get in the car which you only just now notice bears plates that read: RUDWNK

It's Ruddy's taxpayer-funded wanking car.

The smell of shame, despair and smug self-satisfaction fills your nostrils.

You can't even imagine how many others have been wanked here

But as Ruddy reaches over to wank you his smug little smile suddenly turns into an angry frown.

He glares at you and tells you that something is wrong.

You're scared. You tell him you don't know what he's talking about.

He points at you and angrily declares that your dick has "gone wrong" and he "can't wank that bullshit"

In the front seat one of the loyal henchmen pulls a handgun from inside his coat.

“Oh Jesus, I'm in pain”

You see a look of sadness in the henchman's eyes. This isn't the first time he's had to take care of Ruddy's business.

The car pulls to a stop somewhere you don't recognize and Ruddy demands you get out.

You have no other choice, so you climb out of the car and the henchmen rises out of the passenger side door to meet you.

He points the gun at your forehead. Your last thoughts are of your family ...

But then ...

CLANG!

The Henchman hits the gravel in a dead heap!

"What the Ruddy hell?!" Rudd demands, suddenly terrified.

From the darkness you hear "Nobody said being PM would be ... Albon-Easy."

It's Albo.

He hits Ruddy with a shovel.

You run with him to his Harley.

You climb on the back, he gets on the front and revs the engine.

You both drive away in the night.

Out of nowhere you hear the strains of Meat Loaf's 'ANything For Love'

The motorcycle rises off the road, taking off into the air like the end of Grease.

It silouhettes against the moon.

“Holy Christ

I lost is at Albon-easy”

And I would do anyyyyyything for Rudd.

But I won't do that.

Oh no.

No I won't do that.

The End.